


Three's a Crowd

by penguistifical



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: I'll Take Ways That the Lonely Doesn't Work for $1000, M/M, Sensory Deprivation, also Martin's already got a few Lonely powers, those two tags are not coincidentally back to back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24602644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penguistifical/pseuds/penguistifical
Summary: “I don’t think I’m in any danger of heading into the Lonely, even with your gracious guidance.”“That’s where I go to get some peace from you, Mister Bouchard. I wouldn’t bring you to the Lonely, I’m saying that I’m going to bring some of the Lonely to you.”A different take on the ending of 108
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 5
Kudos: 115





	Three's a Crowd

**Author's Note:**

> welp hit the inevitability of posting something with the E rating
> 
> some canon level terribleness from elias and peter  
> cw: anxiety (briefly), isolation (briefly), sensory deprivation
> 
> I know that since I was drafting this, an episode came out concerning memory loss and the Lonely - that is not happening here, in any form

Peter Lukas has always enjoyed keeping people off balance by quipping about the highly distressing. It’s a good way to prevent a conversation from going on for too long, and it's often quite funny to watch people’s reactions.  
  
“Well, I’m sure I’ve disturbed you enough for one day. Martin, I have a meeting to get to and a few things to tell Elias about wasting both our time.”  
  
“He wouldn’t care that much about my time, I don’t think,” Martin mutters, and then hastily attempts to correct himself. “I mean, sorry, enjoy your meeting?”  
  
However, if somebody's already uncomfortable, Peter doesn't mind staying to chat for a bit.

“Go on? No need to be so apologetic, Martin.” Peter only says so to see if it will prompt another apology from the stammering archival assistant, and, when it doesn’t, mentally awards Martin a grudging point of respect.

“Well, we’re really not supposed to bother the Lukases. I know that mostly applies to when you show up in statements, but it’s probably also for in person. I know you like to be, um, left alone?”

Peter laughs. “That’s polite of you. It’s nice to see the Institute is instilling such a sense of professionalism. Feels like money well spent. Elias must be quite pleased with you.”

At Martin’s slight grimace, Peter adds, “Or not, as I think you implied earlier.”  
  
“I probably shouldn’t have. Implied, that is. But, no, he's not been too keen to be nice to me lately. Or maybe ever. I’m not really sure why I’m telling you all this?”

“Well, people are unusually chatty here at the Institute, I’ve found." Peter nods knowingly towards the desk piled high with tapes. "I’m sure you know all about it. You’ve probably taken loads of statements.

“Uh, some, I suppose. It’s not really what I’m best at.”  
  
“Then, what can you do?” Peter asks, crossing his arms across his chest.

“...Sorry?”

“Again with an apology. Are you always so sorry?” Peter asks, and grins at seeing a hint of fog when Martin sighs. “That’s quite all right, Martin. I know you’ve read enough statements about me - Elias made sure of that, I’d bet. We have something in common, don’t we?”

Martin hesitates. “There’s, um. Quite a lot of cameras in the building.”  
  
“I know, I paid for them.” Peter waves a hand dismissively as the temperature in the room noticeably lowers, the camera lenses in the room becoming opaqued with the soft clouds curling in the corners. “Something of a useful trick in this place, eh?”

“Yes…” Martin says slowly, consideringly.

“Mind you, a blind spot suddenly appearing where one normally isn’t, that's as glaringly obvious as a fire. Elias will probably come trotting over in a few minutes to find out why he can’t see so well in here.”

A few minutes will be more than enough, Peter knows. The Eye may be intimately familiar with the desire to reveal kept secrets, but there's always a longing to share those secrets with a kindred spirit, a longing that is so much more potent when the secret keeper has been isolated. Martin’s a fine blend of both Beholding and Lonely, and so Peter waits patiently.

Martin eventually grimaces. “Fine, then.”

He cups his hands in front of his chest with an intense look of concentration. For just a moment he becomes somehow all-together grayer, like he’s becoming backdrop to a world he's not a performer in, like he’s stepping backwards and merging with his own shadow. Peter runs a finger along the side of his whistle, and watches.  
  
After a few breaths, Martin opens his hands to show Peter a tiny quivering moth shaped from fog. Faint streamers of cloud fall through his fingers as the mist moth beats its small wings.  
  
Peter’s eyes gleam in appreciation.

Martin opens his hands fully to let the moth flutter across the desk, and it alights in Peter’s palm for his cool perusal.  
  
Peter prefers to feed his god in a rather straightforward manner, but it seems this archival assistant favors the other side of the Lonely’s insidious coin: this is the will o’wisp one follows to be led further and further from fire and safety into the mists of the swamp, the imaginary friend one creates as a fragile barrier against isolation and that makes everything _so_ much worse when reality crashes down. 

He reaches to try to brush a wing with an exploratory finger, but the moth vanishes like a sigh in winter. 

“So,” he says brightly, watching Martin snap out of gazing forlornly after his moth, “Less murder, and taking better care of you. Thank you, Martin, that’s useful advice. I’ll see what I can do about that.”

Martin moves his hands in an anxious manner that rather reminds Peter of the moth’s flutter. “I don’t know what you mean.”  
  
“I might be taking over for a short while at the Institute. I’m meeting with Elias to set something up. Just as a precaution, you understand.” Peter watches as the camera in the corner twitches ever so slightly, as if blinking. “Anyway, I’m not sure what sort of joke Elias thinks he’s playing by setting us up to meet like this, but I am glad that I met you, Martin. And I don’t usually say that to people.”

“No,” drawls Elias, letting himself into the workroom. “No, he certainly doesn’t.” Elias raises a hand, cutting off Peter’s protests before he can pretend to be annoyed. “Peter, do you think you can make your way to my office? I need to have a quick word with my employee. I’ll join you shortly.”

“Bye, Martin. Be seeing you.” Peter says cheerfully, and ignores Martin’s more than slightly desperate gaze. He briskly walks out, abandoning Martin to whatever Elias is planning.

* * *

Elias brushes through Peter’s mind like he might carefully scoop a cobweb out of a corner, neatly retrieving the memory of Martin’s fog-shaping. How fitting for Martin’s plaintive poetic soul.

He feels a smug sense of sure victory bubbling up like champagne, but refrains from sighing contentedly while not securely in his own office. He’d been planning to set up a bargain with Peter, and he knows now he’s won this wager before it’s even been made.

Martin may have been wandering Lonely for some time, but this isn’t the power of an avatar who wishes to offer up souls for his Forsaken god. Personal destruction, yes, quite possibly, and Elias doesn’t doubt that Martin’s capable of a murder in the right situation, with the...right persuasive prompting. But, the way he sculpted the fog speaks to someone who won’t be manipulated by _Peter’s_ clumsy puppeteering.  
  
“I think I’ve mentioned not bothering the Lukases,” Elias says, a calculated two teaspoons of gentle disappointment stirred into a mug of professional reproach.

“Right, sorry,” mumbles Martin, as expected, looking awkwardly at the floor.

“I’m also not sure I care overly much for the implication that I’m mistreating you.”

Martin jerks his head up but still doesn’t quite meet Elias’s eyes. “Are you _joking_.”

“Martin, I know things may have gotten a bit more complicated in the workplace than you originally signed on for, but, to be fair, you weren’t exactly honest with me at the interview either. Were you?”

Martin doesn’t answer that. “Where’s Melanie?”

“She’s been forcing confrontations again. I don’t wish to act against her, but, well, she is actively trying to murder me. The associated paperwork really is more trouble than it’s worth.”

“The...associated paperwork for murder. Right.”

Elias, amused, favors this hint of spine with a slight wry smile. “The circumstances are unusual, I’ll grant you. Still. It’s not generally favorable when Captain Lukas takes an interest in anyone, let alone my employees. His motives are rarely complicated.”

“So you came down to spy on us?”

“Martin, please. I came by to ensure you’d still be here when Peter left.”

Elias takes a skim of Martin’s current emotions, shuffling through his thoughts like a skilled blackjack dealer. He’d really never considered that, of all his employees, _Martin_ would be the one to act against him, especially not now that he’s hired Melanie. He’s quite startled to realize that Martin’s thinking is at odds with his rather apologetic pose: the lowly archival assistant is considering what he’d learned in his meeting with Peter about avoiding Elias’s gaze.

Elias feels the faintest icicle prickle of doubt in the back of his mind at the same time he feels Peter helping himself to an Institute employee. They’re secreted away to the Lonely a split second after asking Peter if he needs someone to walk with him as a guide.

Martin backs up a step towards the door at the rage suddenly on Elias’s face, fearfully wringing his hands. There's a suggestion of mist around him.

“You’re all right, Martin,” Elias says quietly, digging his nails into his palms. “It’s not you I’m angry with.”

He claps Martin on the shoulder reassuringly as he leaves the workroom to head to his office, having been around enough new avatars to know that sometimes they need a quick nudge to not get caught up in unfamiliar powers. It seems to do the trick, as Martin raises his head and all signs of fog vanish, but Elias feels slightly off for a moment, as if the whole world has become vaguely muted...but it fades.

Elias stalks back to his personal sanctuary, noting on his way the newly emptied desk.

Peter’s waiting for him in his office, daring to sit in his own chair and giving him the blithe smile of a sated serpent.

“Hello, Elias. Did you have a nice chat with Martin? He seems like such a helpful young man.”

“ _Don’t do that again.”_ hisses Elias, slamming the door behind him.

“Not a nice chat, then. You seem rather perturbed. Listen, Martin didn’t say ‘no murder,’ he just said ‘less’. Anyway, I don’t mind telling you about how I took your clerk into the Lonely, if you’d like to share a sacrifice between us.”

The tension in the room is palpable. Both of the avatars are thrumming with more power than usual: Elias has been calling on reserves as he arranges his final gambit, and Peter’s been upping his usual sacrifices on the Tundra- not to mention the Institute employee he’s just taken.

“I didn’t realize it would bother you so much,” Peter lies blandly, leaning back and stretching behind Elias’s desk. “They really didn’t seem your type if you were thinking about shopping for a new body."  
  
Elias strides over and plants both his hands on Peter’s chest, not quite pushing but keeping him in place in the chair. It’s mostly a meaningless gesture. Peter could leave in an instant, and Elias only needs a target to be within hearing range.  
  
“This is my Institute.” Elias begins, trying to steer them both away from a fight.

“It’s my money that keeps your name on the placard. Both names, Jo-”

“ _Why are you challenging me on my own ground?”_ Elias snaps, compulsion lining his words like nettles, his eyes scant inches away from Peter’s.

“I don’t understand why you’ve called me to the Institute, a building buzzing with all your little workers, providing you with endless honey. And it would have been fine if it were just you." Peter glares as that particular tidbit is drawn out, but continues. "But I’m surrounded by strangers and you’re nearing first place in a race I’ve essentially dropped out of - thanks to your past Archivist. I thought you might want me to kill somebody for you, because I know you hate getting your hands dirty in case it draws the attention of Terminus, but now I don’t know what you want. You said something about making me temporary Head of the Institute, and that feels like a trap. I think you lured me here for the Eye’s pleasure and I will _not_ make this easy for you.” 

Elias sighs as the truth settles reassuringly in his mind. No, Peter doesn’t mean anything by temporarily sealing some of his eyes in the institute, by speaking to Martin about how to be hidden. He gives off pressing Peter against the chair with a huff, and smooths out the creases he’d placed in the avatar of the Lonely’s jacket.  
  
“It’s not like that, Peter. I actually need something from you, quite badly.”

Peter gives him an appreciative leer and Elias clenches a wad of jacket in his fist, restoring every wrinkle with interest. 

“It’s not _that_ , either. Don’t make a mockery of my request, if you please.”

Elias sketches the conditions he wants for their wager, what he needs for Jon to acquire a scar on the heart and mind, if not the body this time. Peter considers, turning his whistle over and over in his hand.

“These don’t seem to be even terms…” he says, slowly. “This favors my god far more than it does yours.”

“That may be so.” Elias raises his hands, miming uneven scales. “However, I need you to accept this wager. As such, I’m prepared to offer, well, nearly everything.”

“Supposing I win? What if I should acquire a new acolyte for the Forsaken and seat him in the Panopticon?” 

“Then I’ll send my Archivist to try to unseat him and Jon will acquire a mark of the Lonely when he inevitably fails to do so.” Elias says promptly. “I will have lost very much, but one way or another, I’ll get something I need. And it’s not as if, at the end of all of this, my Archive needs be sane.”

“Will I be doing this with a handpicked candidate, someone you’ve specially chosen to work with me and cause me to lose?”

“I’m not setting you up to fail, dear Peter. I just suspect that you might. No, choose whomever you like, of course.”

“Martin.” Peter says immediately, as Elias had known he would.  
  
“Shall I tell you why I hired Martin?” Elias asks pleasantly, his tone at odds with the cruel smile on his face. “Gertrude understood the necessity of sacrificing one to spare the many, but I thought Jon might have a bit of difficulty making hard choices. I thought it might ease his way if he had an assistant he didn’t like. One he saw as a burden, as disposable. A gentle approach to him learning to have to give people up. Perhaps you should pick another.”

“No, I think I’d like Martin.”

“Again, I might advise against that one,” Elias warns, his face a picture of delight he doesn’t bother to hide. “I do think he’ll surprise you.”

“Maybe he’ll surprise _you_." Peter fires back. "He certainly had you unsettled when you came into the office, didn’t he? He must have spent a little too much time around his current boss.”

“You’re not the acting Head of the Institute yet. And, what do you mean?”

Peter ignores his question and solemnly extends a hand. “I’ll accept your wager. I think it sounds like it might be fun. And, if it’s not, I’ll accept defeat, do as you like, and then head back to the Tundra.”

His tone is casual, but an oath witnessed by the Beholding isn’t so easily broken. When Peter eventually loses, Elias knows he’ll have to keep his word.

“Done.” Elias says in great satisfaction, and clasps Peter’s palm.

He’s not prepared for Peter to yank him forwards into an awkward sprawl over his lap.

“I thought you wanted to sit in your own chair,” Peter says, a feigned apology in response to Elias’s indignant look.  
  
“Don’t get used to it,” Elias warns, adjusting himself comfortably in Peter’s lap, his legs hanging over the side of the armrest. “Win or lose, it’ll be temporary. What did you mean, Martin’s spent too much time around me?”

“He’s left you a bit of a lovetap.” Peter lifts Elias’s palm, pressing in his thumb where Elias’s hand had brushed Martin’s shoulder. “You Beholders like extracting information from each other, yes?” He continues massaging Elias’s hand, and Elias sighs. 

“Yes, it’s nice, depending on how it’s done. Shall I show you how it felt for me?” Elias asks.

“No,” Peter says in disgust. “I don’t need anybody’s thoughts but my own. The point is, you Beholding types might like meeting each other’s eyes, as it were. I can get along well enough for a bit with another Lonely acquaintance - we understand each other. But, mostly we avoid each other, and the Forsaken gifts us with knowing when we're around one another, so that we might remain apart. I can tell, looking at your hand, that our Martin’s made a rather feeble attempt to go into the Lonely around you.”

Elias looks at his hand with interest, but doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “Does that bother you?” 

“No,” Peter shrugs, and rests his hand on Elias’s chest, starting to untuck his dress shirt with slow unsubtle tugs. “It’ll fade in hours, or the next time you go out in a crowd.”  
  
“Can’t you get rid of it?” 

“Perhaps,” Peter hums, working a warm hand up under Elias’s shirt, and Elias squirms slightly. Being in Peter’s lap like this, it’s not a position that affords a lot of control, and he’s starting to feel a bit exposed to whatever Peter chooses to do. How lovely. “Yes, I think I might be able to replace it with my own mark of the Forsaken. Shall I give it a try?”

“I don’t think I’m in any danger of heading into the Lonely, even with your gracious guidance.” Elias says, feet twitching slightly over the edge of the chair as he tries to hold still while Peter explores the feel of his stomach with rough fingertips.

“That’s where I go to get some peace from you, Mister Bouchard. I wouldn’t bring you to the Lonely, I’m saying that I’m going to bring some of the Lonely to you.” He presses a quick kiss to Elias’s palm. “But, I do need you to ask for it.”

Elias plucks the fantasy from Peter’s mind like a grape, and grins, stretching in Peter’s lap.

“I _need_ you, Peter,” he moans like a fourth-rate actor, words devoid of any true passion. “I'm yours. I need you so badly, my Captain. Only _you_.”

“Oh, shut up,” Peter growls, dragging Elias up by his labels. “Don’t rub it in that I’m an open book.”

“And you’re such a short read, my darling. But yes, I choose this. Make me feel alone? Or, rather, don’t.”

Peter yanks him in for a kiss and fog fills Elias’s peripheral vision.

Elias has had enough lifetimes to enjoy more kisses than most, but it’s never been like this. He’s dimly aware, as his eyes flutter shut, that the edges of reality as he perceives them are flickering in and out as the realm of the Lonely pulses around them. He remains fully aware, of course. The Lonely’s not interested in those who don’t comprehend their position. 

Not that Elias has any terror with which to feed The One Alone. His entire original body sits in the Panopticon, should he need a physical anchor composed of his own corporeality. What’s a single rib to that?

But it’s not his own body that tethers him to the world; he’s pulled back again and again by the physicality of Peter underneath and against him, by the inability of thinking he’s by himself while Peter’s hands roam his body, while Peter works his lower lip between his teeth, while he can feel Peter’s hot erection underneath his thighs.

The world fades back and forth between grey nothingness and vivid sensation as Elias is repeatedly yanked out of the Lonely’s grasp by Peter’s attentions.

“ _Peter,”_ Elias gasps, when they break apart for air. This time, his moan has no pretense, and fog leaks from his mouth as he pants.   
  
Peter lifts Elias's face up gently by his chin. "Good?" he asks gruffly, when Elias's breath stops being visible.

Elias ducks his head down to kiss Peter's knuckles. "Mm, yes. Keep going."   
  
Peter keeps Elias's head raised with a gentle grip, a contrast to the harsh line of bites he strings just underneath Elias's collarbone, where they'll be covered up by his usual office attire. Peter caresses each mark as they form, and the Institute feels faint and distant before the next bruising kiss spins his office back into actuality.

The world grays again, and Elias hears only a distant wind, just strong enough to stir the thick fog that lies heavily on the ground. Then, he’s in his office, writhing in Peter’s arms, pushing his hips up against the hand that’s slowly rubbing him through his pants. 

“Shh, hush now. What must your employees think?”

Elias manages, “The office is soundproofed, we’re alone.”

“That’s right. All alone.” Peter flits his tongue through Elias’s mouth but pulls back with a chuckle when Elias tries to deepen the kiss. Elias finds himself dizzyingly leaning into nothing before realizing he’s pressed against Peter’s chest and the avatar of the Lonely is stamping his palm with kisses.

Elias hears only his own heartbeat pounding in his ears in time to the throb of his prick before the sounds resolve into an awareness of how loud he’s actually being, groaning in Peter’s arms, unable to keep from moaning every time sensation suddenly rushes back in a flood of heat.

Elias dips a quick look into Peter’s mind, and sees he’s entertaining the idea of slowly sucking Elias off, keeping him on edge with muted sensations until he begs, knocked away from orgasm again and again.

“God.” Elias shudders. “Another time.”

“Ah, _so_ glad to hear we’ll be doing this again. What would you like, then?”

Elias cries out as Peter’s nails rake up his thigh. “You’ve got skin that would make the Stranger jealous,” Peter says approvingly, rubbing along where he’d dragged his nails to smooth out the sting, the heel of his palm maddeningly rubbing now and then against Elias’s prick.

Elias’s demand that Peter actually touch him properly breaks off in a groan as Peter finally starts jerking him off. His pace is slow and unsatisfying, and Elias wants to complain but his words are taken away by fog. He’s dragged repeatedly back to reality from an absence of sensation by the slow pump of Peter’s rough hands, though he’s occasionally stopping to run them up Elias’s thighs. 

He’s not sure in which realm he hears a quiet, “Only mine,” breathed into his ear, but it tips him over the edge and he comes against Peter’s hand, gasping against his chest. He feels, somewhat distantly, Peter finishing himself off as well.

It takes a while for him to come back to himself. He feels, and it’s been quite a while, almost high. The world, though clear of fog and full of color, still is slightly fuzzy. 

“Enjoy yourself?” Peter asks smugly.

“Mm.” The easiest thing to focus on is Peter slowly running a hand through his hair. He really is fond of the man, sometimes. “You’ll be very powerful, Peter, if all goes well. There’s no outcome that’s a total loss for either of us.”

It’s been a rather nice afternoon, despite Martin Blackwood starting to shake off his puppet strings. But he’d been thinking about something that Peter had said about fire...

“So, you like Martin, then?” Elias asks. The hand moving through his hair stills briefly.

“I know that tone.” Peter says easily. “I’m not entering multiple wagers at once.”

“Listen, if you win, he’s going to stay in the Panopticon for as long as you need him to. If I win,” _When_ , not _if_. Elias thinks. “There’s not going to be a place for him in the world I make. Not really. And I expect things will get a bit chaotic, especially around the Institute. I know how you feel about dying alone. It’d be such a shame if the newest avatar of the Lonely didn’t get afforded the same courtesy.”

Elias can tell Peter’s mulling it over. Such a helpful man. “You’re going to like things _so_ much in the new world, Peter. I promise.”

And then, he grinds down hard against Peter, enjoying the other man’s startled grunt. He sits up and moves Peter's hands to his chair's armrests. "Keep them there," he says, and pats Peter's cheek. "Now, about the employee of mine that you vanished, I believe that you said something about sharing?"

Elias reaches up and takes a handful of hair, pulls Peter close, and sees a grin that mirrors his own.

“ _Show me._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> sorry @ the Entity known as the Lonely, this was v disrespectful  
> on second thought, not sorry, and I will fight them.
> 
> thank you very much to everybody who leaves kudos and comments, you are all really great and I appreciate it a lot


End file.
